


The Inestimable Vase

by JohnlockTheDoctor



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Homeless Network, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Panic, near rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-13
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-13 00:01:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2129412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnlockTheDoctor/pseuds/JohnlockTheDoctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets kidnapped. Sherlock and the police search to find him while John is in the scariest position he's ever been in, in his whole life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Inestimable Vase

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from an anon on Tumblr:  
> [how about something happens to John. something really bad, and Sherlock saves him]
> 
> *near rape scenes*

I jumped as I heard someone thumping on the door as hard as they could. It sounded urgent. _Extremely urgent._ I quickly got up and flung the door open, “Lestrade, what is it?”. He swallowed nervously and looked up at me, “tell me! What is it?”. He exhaled loudly, “it’s John. Sherlock, you need to help me. Someone took him. Pulled him.. into a car”. I slammed the door and got into his police car, “John?! They.. _took_ him?! From where? Did you see their face? _Lestrade!_ Tell me now. What happened! Where is he?! Tell me! _Now!”._ He shook his head, “we don’t have much. He was coming into Scotland Yard and someone grabbed him. Anderson saw what happened”. I groaned loudly, _“Anderson?!_ Why didn’t he do something, the absolute moron!”. Lestrade just ignored me, driving as fast as he could towards Scotland Yard, the lights on and that bloody siren ringing in my ears. _John._ He was in danger. First I thought Mycroft. Though, Mycroft wouldn’t _‘grab’_ him. It was someone else. Someone had taken him and it was my fault. “Stop the car!”, I shouted suddenly and Lestrade slammed the brakes on, throwing me forward into the seat in front. I jumped out the car and crouched down next to a woman sitting on the street corner. I slipped a £50 note into her hand, “tell me if you see John”. She nodded and I got back into the car, “go. Hurry up”. Lestrade put his foot down again and we both stayed silent until we reached the Yard. If the homeless network couldn’t help me, then no one could.

I jumped out of the car and stormed upstairs, “Sherlock! Don’t do anything stupid!”, Lestrade shouted, trying to get out of the car quick enough to catch me up. I caught sight of Anderson and grabbed him by the collar, throwing everything off his desk in one swift movement before slamming him down against it. I looked down at him, glaring and out of breath, due to how angry I was, “tell me everything. I mean, _everything._ Don't miss anything out”. He stared up at me, "u-uh.. I was outside, just getting some fresh air you know? It’s stuffy in here.. and _uh,_ John. He was coming in, and a car pulled up. A black car. A man jumped out and grabbed him. I didn’t see his face, it happened too quick. He just grabbed him and covered his mouth. I don’t know, they just pulled him. It wasn’t the driver though. There must have more then one of them as the man got in the back seat. Then they drove away. That’s it”. I let go of him and squeezed my eyes shut, “this is my fault, I told him to come in”. I grabbed at my hair, “did you get the number plate?”. He muttered a no and I opened my eyes, watching him straighten his jacket where I’d grabbed at it. John could be in danger. I needed to find him. _Fast._ “THINK!”, I shouted, causing everyone in the room to look at me. My phone vibrated in my pocket and I grabbed it so quickly I nearly dropped it. I opened the message,

_'Black car seen with a man pulling, supposedly, John out of it. He looked completely out of it, they had to carry him. Forwarding the address now'_

The homeless network. The only people who I could rely on. Except John. _John._ I froze and waited for the address to come through. What if they’d drugged him? Or hurt him? What were they going to do to him? They could do anything. What if he was too far away? _No._ I’d get to him. I would. My phone vibrated again and I forwarded the address straight to Lestrade. More trustworthy than Anderson, or anyone in this building for that matter. He’d get there eventually. “take the car, I’ll run. It’s quicker”. I didn’t even have time to see his response as I’d already pocketed my phone and ran down the stairs. I’d find him. I would. I’d never let him down. I’d save him. I _swear._

 

I opened my eyes slowly. My vision was blurred so I couldn’t see. I went to rub my eyes but I couldn’t move my hands. They were stuck. I blinked a few times, trying to focus. It was cold. I was wearing no clothes. I tried to get up but I couldn’t move. Had I lost the use of my limbs? _No._ I could still feel them. They were tied. My hands were bound behind my back and my ankles were tied to the chair legs. I was tied up. _Naked._ Someone had tied me up. I looked around, trying to figure out where I was. I couldn’t. I’d never seen this place before in my life. I was in someone’s.. _house?_ The room was empty, apart from the chair in the corner and some sort of yellowish curtains drawn across the window. I didn’t even know how I got here. I was going to Scotland Yard when.. something happened. I pulled on my restraints, trying to get free. I could remember a sharp pain in my arm. I looked down and a small spot of blood was on the inside of my wrist. They’d drugged me. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I pulled on my restraints again, panicking. What were they going to do to me? They walked into the room, both smirking. Two men, the first was quite muscular, with a shaved head and the other was similar looking, except he had a huge scar that ran down the left side of his face. Pretty much the stereotypical description of a thug. Just my luck. “He’s quite pretty isn’t he?”, he first man said. The other laughed and the both looked down at me, “hello”. My eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, “why am I here?”. The first man stepped forward, “tell me everything you know about Sherlock Holmes”. I rolled my eyes. Of course it would be about that bloody idiot. “Well, he’s a bit of a dick”, I muttered. Obviously that was the wrong thing to say because as soon as I’d said it, he’d punched me straight in the face. Blood poured out of my nose and down my face, into my lap. My naked lap. He raised his eyebrows at me, "uh. I’m his flat share. We live together. That’s it”. He crouched down next to me, staring into my eyes. I wanted to look away, but I didn’t want to look scared, so I stared straight back, “so you’d know about the Inestimable Vase then?”. I laughed softly, “A _vase?_ You think Sherlock has a vase?”. He punched me again and I spluttered, coughing up blood. “He stole it from me!”, the man shouted. I shook my head, “I think you’ve got the wrong person, Sherlock wouldn’t steal a vase. A heart maybe, or a severed head, but not a vase”. He gripped my legs tightly, very tightly. I tried to keep a straight face, hiding that it hurt. I looked down. Purple bruises had already formed where he’d been gripping onto me. He stared up at me, not saying a word. I stared back, still trying to show him I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t sure if it worked. “I suggest you tell me where it is, or I’ll let Pete have his fun”, he muttered softly. I looked up at the other man, Pete, standing over me. I didn’t want to know what his sort of _'fun'_ was. I looked back down at the first man, “he doesn’t have it. I swear, go search the flat. Go search our flat, it’s not there. You’ve got the wrong man! It wasn’t Sherlock! I _swear!”._ He just laughed softly, “he’ll stop once you tell us. Go on Pete”. 

The first man pulled up a chair and sat in the corner, watching me. Pete walked over to me slowly and put a hand on my cheek. I tried to jerk away but I couldn’t move. I think I knew what fun meant now. He smiled at me and leant his face towards me, “you are a pretty one, aren’t you?”, he said quietly, giving me a firm kiss on my lips. I squeezed my lips tightly together. He tasted like cigarettes, drugs and something extremely foul along with the blood still lingering in my mouth. It was disgusting. _This_ was disgusting. I’d rather he killed me then this. He walked round the back of my chair and started to untie my wrists, “boss”, he said quietly and the man in the chair got up. One of them had hold of my wrists, whilst the other untied me. I had no chance of escaping. Not with two of them. While the first man held my hands, Pete untied my legs. They forced me onto my knees and tied my hands to the back of the chair, whilst my thighs were tied to the legs. My knees already hurt from the wooden floor. My chin rested on the seat of the chair and I took a deep breath. I was exposed, to do whatever they wanted with. I was scared. They both were standing behind me so I couldn’t see what was happening. That was the worst part. I could hear rustling and one of them chuckled. The first man sat down on the chair in front of me. He’d taken off his trousers and his pants. My face was just inches from his cock. The other man, Pete, hit me with something. I shouted in pain as it hit my arsecheek and they both laughed, “what me to shut him up Pete?”. I didn’t hear an answer but the man tried to force his cock into my mouth. I clenched my jaw shut. I wasn’t going to do that. No way was I going to do that. “Open up pretty boy”, he said, smirking. I looked away from him, turning my head. He grabbed my head in his hands and I clenched my jaw even tighter. I felt another smack on my arsecheek and groaned through my teeth. I wanted to die. I didn’t want this. This was awful. I was about to get raped. He was hitting me with what felt like a rope. He hit me again and then there was a loud shot, then another. Had they.. shot me? I looked up and the first man had blood pouring down his face. He’d be shot in the face. I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to look. I’d seen many dead bodies before, but none that were just moments before about to rape me. I just didn’t want to look at him. I felt someone untie my restraints and they rested a hand on my cheek. My eyes flung open and I let out a sob. _Sherlock._ “I’m here. I’ve got you. No one is going to hurt you okay? I’m here. I won’t let anyone hurt you”, he said softly. He pulled me into a hug and I pressed my face to his chest. Too shocked to even speak. Too shocked to even cry. “Can you get up?”. I nodded, though I could barely move. He pulled me up and took off his coat, “here, wear this for now”. I pulled it on and tried to do up the buttons however my hands were shaking so badly I couldn’t. He pulled my hands away and did them for me, wrapping an arm around my waist so he could help me walk. I stumbled down the stairs, nearly falling, though Sherlock held me up so I didn’t before we got outside. 4 police cars pulled up and all the officers jumped out, “where are they?!”. Sherlock hugged his arm around me tighter, not answering. A few officers ran in and Lestrade came up to me, “you okay John?”. I couldn’t speak, I just froze, avoiding his gaze. “I killed them”, Sherlock said quietly. Lestrade scowled, “you _idiot!_ You could go to prison! I can’t always get you out of things Sherlock, this time you’ll get locked up. You _stupid_ idiot!”. Sherlock stared at him blankly, “they were about to rape him”. Lestrade’s mouth fell open, “oh _shit._ I’m so sorry John. God, Sherlock, I won’t mention you killed them just, go. Both of you leave, just, _go._ Go home”. 

 

It was typical for Mycroft to be here. He jumped out of his car and practically ran towards us. I’d make a joke about him running and his diet but, nothing seemed funny anymore, “get in the car, I’ll get you both home”. I walked John over to the car and we both got in. The car drove off and John finally let it all out. Tears poured down his cheeks and he started to try and viciously wipe away the blood on his face. I grabbed his hands, to stop him hurting himself and he grabbed hold of me. I wrapped my arms around him, undoing my seatbelt so I could sit closer to him. He cried into my chest and I looked over at Mycroft. He was watching us in the mirror. He nodded at me. I needed to say something. “I’m sorry”, I whispered, “I know it was my fault. I told you to go to the Yard. I’m sorry. I am _so_ sorry”. He continued to cry into my chest, “they said you had a vase. They said.. you stole it”, he mumbled out, his words getting slightly mixed up. “The Inestimable Vase? It was in the paper. They think _I_ stole it?!”, I said, feeling the anger bubble up inside of me. “It wasn’t me!”, I shouted, making John jump, “they hurt you for no reason! It wasn’t me! Mycroft you stupid arsehole! I hate you! This is _your_ fault!”. Mycroft looked away from me and out the window, “Mycroft!”, I shouted even louder, “John nearly got raped for your idiocy! You complete and utter prick!”. He stayed silent, not daring to even face me. I hated him. I _hated_ him. He’d stolen it and John had to pay for it. The car pulled up outside 221B and I helped John out of the car. “Never, speak to me again. I swear, if you ever come near me, I will release all those pictures of you when you were fat and tell mummy about that time when you shagged fathers best friend in the guest room. Oh, and _then_ I’ll kill you”. His face went bright red, “see you brother.. _dear”._ I slammed the car door angrily and walked up into our flat. “Shower”, John mumbled as we walked through the door. I nodded, taking off the coat for him as we got into the bathroom. He got in the shower and started to vigorously scrub his skin, as if he was trying to get every trace of what happened tonight off him. He was going to hurt himself. I stripped off and got into the shower with him, grabbing his hands, “let me”. He didn’t answer so I took that as a yes and I started to wash him, every part of him. His knees were badly bruised and his arse had burn marks on them. Rope burns. I softly touched his left arse cheek and he whimpered in pain. “Sorry”, I whispered but he just shook his head. After I’d washed him all over, I helped him out of the shower. I dried him and myself off and took him to my room. I climbed into bed with him and clinged onto him tightly. “I’m sorry. I’m so, _so_ sorry. I’m here now, I’ll never let you out of my sight. I’m sorry. _John?_ Please speak to me? Please forgive me. I’m sorry, I should have never sent you out. I didn’t know it was going to happen! I’m _sorry!”._ He leaned closer to me and pressed his forehead to mine, our naked bodies touching. “I love you”, I said softly and he kissed my nose, before closing his eyes. I watched him fall asleep in my arms. I can’t believe what happened to him. It was all my fault. Now he didn’t even want to speak to me. “I love you too”, he whispered and my eyes widened. He didn’t hate me. He _loved_ me. John actually loved me. I squeezed him even tighter against me, “I’ve got you”, I whispered. I loved him. I _actually_ loved him. I was in love, _so_ in love, with John Hamish Watson.


End file.
